How To Defile an Angel in Ten Steps or Less
by Nakimochiku
Summary: Armed with little but "Defiling Angels for Dummies" Arthur is told to corrupt an Angel who shouldn't have been in heaven in the first place. fml. Fruk, oneshot, enjoy.


How To Defile an Angel InTen Steps or Less

**Step 1: choose an angel without very high morals (found mainly on the first circle of heaven)**

"Arthur!" Ivan called so cheerily and with such a bright smile one would wonder if he was actually Satan, ruler of all evil. Which was okay, because he wasn't. He was Lucifer's cousin, filling in for him while he was on vacation. "It's good to see you, comrade."

Arthur glowered at the glowing red wall, arms crossed and foot tapping to show that he was very much displeased, his formidable eyebrows furrowed into a frown. "Can't say I feel the same." he grumbled, watching the igneous rock melt and reform.

"I have a job for you, comrade. Cousin Lucifer was complaining about a lack of very attractive demons down here, before he left." Ivan smiled, small and sweet, and Arthur felt the smile seep into the darkest part of his black little heart and remain there to fester and haunt his nightmares.

Really, that smile could make Chuck Norris crap himself.

Oh, he was going to regret asking... "And my job requires what, exactly?" His wings, small red and black leathery things that he was quite proud of, fluttered nervously.

"Well you see, I would like you to defile an angel and drag him to hell where he can...I don't know beautify the place. Or something." Again, that black evil soul scarring your mother eats cupcakes in hell and trust me I would know smile.

"How the hell do I go about defiling an angel?" Arthur burst out, wings snapping open in his fury. Ivan just shrugged, reclining on the stone throne, as though to say 'that's your problem.' "Why the hell would Lucifer even want an angel down here anyway?"

The giant gave him another shrug. "Have you seen the other guys down here, comrade? Now run along. It seems like you have a lot of preparing to do, da?"

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"Seems like you have a lot of preparing to do, _da_?" Arthur hissed in a falsely sweet tone, scanning through Hell's great library in search of anything that might be of use to him on his fucking endeavor to _defile a fucking angel_. What the hell was that Russian demon thinking anyway? What would Lucifer need with another angel hanging around? He bothered Michael enough already!

His clawed fingers stopped on a book, and he pulled it out. "Defiling Angels for Dummies. Huh. That's convenient." He flipped through it, scanning the elaborate traps and the possible scenarios a demon trying to capture an angel would encounter. Was it just him, or had the book been written by Lucifer himself?

"Hey there Artie! Heard that big ol' commie stuck ya with a stupid job!" Alfred came flying in, laughing obnoxiously as he went. "How the heck is anyone supposed to defile an angel? I feel sorry for you man!" Alfred's expression morphed into one of serious thought, before he grinned again. "At least I would if you weren't such a tight ass!"

Arthur's fingers tightened around the sleek yellow and black book, his other hand clenching into a fist. "Alfred, if you don't get out of my face this instant, I'm going to make you wise you had never sinned once in your life." Alfred didn't heed the warning, and without much more said, was left out cold on the library floor.

Flying to his own room to wait for the night when the barrier between heaven and hell would be weakest, Arthur contemplated his situation. Life sucked. Hell sucked. This stupid mission that didn't even make sense sucked.

His room provided little comfort, just glowing shifting stone and a window that stared out at the damned city of Hades with it's night life and the parties that never died. He sighed, forlorn expression becoming a little more annoyed.

How the hell was anyone to get any freaking sleep in this place anyway?

**Tip: angels with low morals are often harder to seduce. Try offering them a cookie.**

"This book is freaking ridiculous!" Arthur growled, tempted to just toss it and let the baleful winds of the barrier carry it where it will. He did no such thing, holding tightly to the book instead. He hated the travel between heaven and hell. It was murder on the wings and his eyes were stinging and seriously, if he ever saw Ivan's face again, it's would be too–

"Oh, Arthur, I forgot to mention one thing!"

Speak of the mother freaking devil.

"What?" he ground out forcefully, nearly letting out a yelp as he was whipped about by the winds once he lost concentration. Getting back on track, he sighed. Fucking Ivan. Fucking Ivan with his fucking accent. He couldn't get out insults any more scathing but that, but oh, did they feel good.

" I forgot to tell you that you are going after a specific angel, by the name of Francis Bonnefoy, he was human once, like you. See you soon, comrade!" And Ivan's voice faded away, leaving Arthur with nothing but the moaning of the wind and his own growing irritation.

The book's cover became indented with his claw marks.

**Step 2: once you have your angel selected, find out about them (skip to page 50 for note taking)**

"Big brother Francis!" The high pitched, slightly whining voice carried throughout the white stone courtyard. Francis stilled, closed his eyes and prayed for patience and wholeness and all that other good crap, before turning.

"Yes mon cher?" An Italian boy catapulted into his arms, nearly knocking him off his feet and into the sparkling fountain, crying and wailing. Patience. Right, right. Patience. He pet the silky brown locks of hair, looking skyward. Patience.

"L-Lovino s-said that..." he took a great big gulp of air, pausing in his wailing before continuing. The noise grated on his ears, quite honestly. And if he didn't tell him what was wrong this instant, he was going to, for once, get in a very good feel. It would be alright, wouldn't it? His brother wasn't around...neither was that godforsaken German.

Just one good feel would be okay. Francis chuckled darkly, hands moving lower. Just a little farther, and if he was very lucky, he could even manage to get Feliciano naked. That would be good. That would be very good...

"Hold it right there, perverted Frenchman! Get your stinking paws off my brother!" Drats. So close. Victory had been so close. Francis sighed as Feliciano just held him closer, sobbing even more loudly.

"You were being m-mean to Ludwig, and...and..." he had cried himself out, and promptly fell asleep. Who the hell just fell asleep like that? But... The sleeping ones were always more willing victims. He wouldn't mind at all if Francis just...took a peak?

"I know what you're thinking, you wine bastard. Go eat some cheese or something and leave my brother alone." Lovino grabbed his brother out of Francis's arms and huffed, leaving Francis to tend to the pure white roses just as he had before.

Ah, the apparent perks of being a good person. Letting idiot Italian boys cry in your arms. Letting other idiot Italian boys call you names. And not expecting even one good grope in return. Francis wasn't quite sure why they bothered resisting him at all. They knew they wanted a piece of this fine craftsmanship.

Giving one final snip to the rose bush, leaving it positively glowing, Francis gathered up his tools and wandered aimlessly through the gardens. Matthew sat beneath a tree, almost as aimlessly, reading a book. Oh goodie, another victim! And one that didn't have nearly as many guardians.

"Ma petite souris!" Francis practically sang, grabbing Matthew into his arms. One good feel... ah yes, perfect. What a perfectly formed adorable little ass, just firm enough, but so soft. He sighed. Heaven. And that yelp Matthew gave him. Delightful. Francis paused, looking over Matthew's shoulder at his demure gray wings. "What's this, ma petite souris? A black feather? Have you been sinning?"

"I... I can explain! I-it was – I didn't!" Matthew nearly broke down in tears of anguish, gasping in pain as Francis simply tore it out, tossing the black feather to the grass.

"There. All gone. Now how about we go back to my place and I can show you what real sinning should do to your wings?" Matthew didn't answer. Then again, Francis hadn't really expected him to. His hands were satisfied for now. Spreading his wings, he flew through the clouds to the shining white spires that served as the lower angels rooms. And, in the airy room that seemed to be made of clouds as much as it was made of stone, Francis contemplated a few things.

Life sucked. Heaven sucked. All these goody-goodies sucked.

He wanted adventure. He wanted, quite frankly, to be bad.

**Tip: it would be a good idea to gather notes on the sins of your chosen angel.**

"First piece of good advice this book has given me." Arthur grumbled out loud. He had been watching Francis under the barrier for a little over a week. He felt like some sort of stalker, taking notes on him, watching everything he did, knowing where he went or who he talked to. He should be paid for this. In fact...

That blasted Russian demon hadn't even offered him any sort of reward! Did he think it was a cake walk, just watching an admittedly handsome angel strut about his room naked or trick sylphs into having sex with him and then having to actually watch them go at it? And damn, did they go at it... he would never be any sort of pure again, demon or not.

"Let's see, pride, lust, envy, wrath...uh..." Arthur growled and was once more tempted to toss the stupid book away. He didn't know what sins he was accused of, never mind someone else. And if he saw one more tip that had to do with cookies, he was going to tear Lucifer's eyes out, because he knew the king of hell had written it himself. Unless cookies really did work on angels...then he might give it a try.

Deciding it was time to move, and that he had wasted enough time, Arthur gathered up all his demonic aura and struggled through the last bit of the barrier to the surface where it thinned and became more holy, sharp and twisting in his lungs as he struggled to breathe. The winds tore at his wings painfully, and he winced when he felt his right wing crack and wrench unnaturally.

Almost there. Just a little more and then he would be able to see heaven for himself.

The sun on the other side when he emerged burned, and Arthur let out a tiny cry of pain. His wing. His wing hurt so bad that he couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't even breathe. He felt himself slip away, choking on the smell of blood and the pure air.

**Tip: remember. If worst comes to worse, offer them a cookie.**

"So I heard you attempted to rape Matt and Feli in one day. Care to explain to me how the hell you got into heaven?" Gilbert laughed, hands raised above his head to stretch, following behind Francis casually. Francis grinned wanly at him, collecting his shears and spades to begin work in another garden.

"I don't know. Maybe god decided he wanted some sexy angels around. Have you seen those other guys?" They shared laughter, taking their time to get to the garden, before Gilbert paused, blinking his crimson eyes and staring at the gate of the gardens where a dark shape was slumped.

"What's that?" Francis followed his gaze as they drew nearer, a lean body with shaggy blonde becoming clear. Another victim. The sleeping ones were always good. Perhaps he wouldn't mind if he got just a tiny little feel?

"He's covered in blood." Francis noted dully, kneeling beside him. "And he's a demon, if the wing is anything to go by." The other one had been torn off, leaving little but a small profusely bleeding stump, the black thick blood of a demon rather than the silver white of an angel. A slightly cute, injured demon, unconscious, in heaven.

Perhaps god felt like playing a cruel joke, but he wasn't exactly sure who it was supposed to be on.

**Step 3: once you've gathered all your information, carefully approach your angel. (Skip to page 78 for the physical approach)**

Arthur woke, first of all, in excruciating pain, and was reminded almost instantly of the one time he had allowed Alfred and the others to drag him out to a wild party in Hades where they had been tossing around some sort of trident. And honestly, it was all fun and games until someone poked out an eye.

Which someone had.

The second thing Arthur noticed as he woke up was that the air burned his lungs, no matter how shallowly he tried to breath. Even the breeze across his cheek burned, seriously, today was just not his freaking day, was it? He shifted and opened his eyes, closing them swiftly when the sun assaulted him with a wave of nausea. Swallowing the sickness, Arthur opened his eyes again, and was met with gold.

Not gold. Hair. Blonde hair that curled around a pale face that seemed to glow angelically in the horrendously burning sunlight. And he would recognize that face anywhere. He had done it! Oh yes, victory was good! He was going to rub it in Alfred's face, and then he was going home and drink as much firewater as he could possibly manage and fuck yes, life was good.

Painful, but good.

Arthur pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing as he did so, staring at the peacefully sleeping body slumped over one side of the bed. He hoped Francis hadn't raped him. Damn asshole probably had, while he was out. He seemed to have a habit of doing that to just about anyone he happened across. Especially if they were sleeping, and he had given him a whole...

How long?

He couldn't tell how long he'd been out, and the pain was starting to cripple him, and the only thing worse that could possibly happen was if Francis woke up before –

"Oh, are you awake, caterpillar demon?" Francis asked with a face splitting yawn, looking at Arthur with blurry eyes and getting up to go about his usual routine, which Arthur was said to say he knew by heart. Picking out his clothes for half an hour, primping in a mirror for another hour and a half, then taking nothing more than two minutes to get dressed. All that preparation for what?

An amazingly spectacular complection and a flawless outfit? How ridiculous.

But none of that mattered, when his words finally sank in, and he sputtered with anger.

"What the hell did you call me, you perverted angel? Want me to – !" Pain assaulted him almost as quickly as the nausea again, tearing at his back. Francis moved over to him quickly, helping him lay back in the bed as he tried to regain his breath in an atmosphere that hated him. "I'll...rip your face off. As soon as I stop...seeing triplets of you."

Francis chuckled softly, lifting a cloth from a bowl of cool water and wringing it out. "You won't be doing any such thing, until you're completely healed." It took Arthur a moment for those words to sink in as well.

Healed? Pain? He touched his right shoulder. His wing. His pretty little wing that he had groomed for as long as he could remember was gone. Oh the humiliation. "Fuck my life." Arthur growled, beating the pillow.

Today seriously wasn't his day.

Francis pet his hair, still grinning stupidly, and Arthur shot him a resentful glare. Stupid handsome angel with his pretty tawny wings both beautifully intact. And they would be beautiful, because Francis spent two hours before bed grooming them until they were glossy. Arthur growled low in his throat.

"Go die, perverted french asshole. Go die and rot in some ditch. I hope that rabbits from hell gnaw on your bones." Francis laughed cheerfully, and it was a laugh almost a deceptively kind as Ivan's. And boy did Arthur hate Ivan right now.

"I'll go get you something to eat, I'll be back in a little bit, mon petit lapin." Francis spread his tawny wings, making the evil sun glisten off the speckles of white and bars of darker brown, before he dropped out the window, gliding easily on the evil breeze.

Arthur lay back on the soft pillows, smelling lilies and wondering idly if that was Francis's scent, because Arthur himself always smelled like heather blossoms and sulphur. He spotted his book on a side table, reaching for it carefully. So he made fucking contact in the worst way imaginable.

Now what?

**If your angel accepts your advances, have the dirtiest raunchiest sex you can manage against the nearest solid surface.**

...What the fuck? Arthur snapped the book shut and violently threw it against the wall. Its only protest was the crack of its spine breaking. Lucifer was going to die. He was going to die three thousand and seven deaths because he was of no freaking help. Ever.

"Yo, Artie, you up here! I saw that French guy – oh, there you are."

Arthur curled into the lily scented bed sheets and cursed god and cursed Lucifer and cursed Ivan but most of all, cursed Francis, for being the exact type of angel Ivan had been looking for. Cursed him for being french and for drinking wine and for speaking french and for having both wings and for the invention of the baguettes and berets and the Eiffel tower. He cursed him for having good fashion sense and for being vain and for being hot enough to have sex whenever he bloody well pleased and still not get in trouble for it.

And then he cursed him for natural disasters and for bad hair days and for the lack of funding in aid of Haiti's relief.

Because those things were all the blasted frog's freaking fault!

But more than anything, even more than Francis, he cursed Alfred, and his innate ability to make everything seem _that much worse_.

"Dude! The hell happened to your wing? Did the French dude you've been stalking do that to you? Want me to kick his ass?" Alfred hovered over him on the bed, still grinning, so he wasn't very sure if Alfred actually cared or not.

So he tossed a pillow in his face and growled lowly. "What the hell are you doing here? Do you live to fuck everything I do up?" Alfred gave him that annoying thoughtful face, blue eyes sparkling.

"Yes actually. Yes I do." Alfred laughed and tossed the pillow back at him, flying back out the window. "I'm going to go visit Mattie...I mean... torturing some really cute unsuspecting angel and hopefully have my wicked way with him." Alfred flashed him a devious grin, quite befitting of a demon, and waved. "See ya around, Artie!"

Well. One headache gone, but another remained.

How the hell was he going to just randomly jump Francis's bones when he was fairly sure the angel would have him bent over 'the nearest solid surface' a heartbeat faster?

**Step 4: during the courteous approach, you must lull your angel into a false sense of security. Try offering them a cookie!**

Cookie cookie cookie. Where the hell was he supposed to find a cookie anyway? Did Lucifer think that demons just randomly carried around cookies, waiting to offer them to anyone still walking on the side of light? Seriously, if the king of hell did that...what would he say? "Join the dark side, we have cookies"? Wasn't that some stupid internet thing?

This was not going well at all, and he had already been with Francis for two weeks, lazing around in the angel's room, watching him get dressed every morning (and he completely ignored the lust filled looks and coy winks he got whenever Francis caught him looking), and watching him fly in through the window, the only entrance to the room, every evening . Not only that, but he had to endure his unreasonably talented fingers whenever he redressed his wound.

Those fingers had a habit of traveling lower and massaging his poorly defended arse, when he wasn't being watchful. And it was most definitely not okay that Francis had managed to force a small groan of pleasure from deep inside him, even though Francis was nearly a professional at doing just that.

"You're blushing an awful lot over there, petit lapin." Francis called from his place in front of his mirror, smoothing out his fine waves of hair with a delicate silver comb.

"Fuck you." Arthur shot back, determinedly looking away. There went the plan to behave nicely and hopefully seduce Francis with his charms, whatever those were.

Francis chuckled deeply, and the laugh only made his blush darken. "I'm a little jealous. What are you thinking of that's making you flush more that I do?" He paused dramatically as a torturously slow smile spread over undoubtably soft pink lips. "Unless of course, you're thinking of me. That must be it, right?"

"No you asshole, stop jumping to conclusions!" Francis just laughed, moving towards him and trapping him easily beneath him on the soft bed, gazing down on Arthur with a look of practiced hunger that he had seen on his face countless times before when sharing this same bed with the sylphs. It was much different now, when the look was turned on him.

"Why else would you watch me so closely whenever you see me dress? Do you like the way the clothes look on me, petit lapin? Or perhaps you like me more when I'm out of them?" Arthur sputtered, silenced only when Francis's lips pressed firmly against his, and his arms raised to push him away, instead laying comfortably around Francis's shoulders.

Arthur panted softly when they pulled away, and didn't notice immediately that the air was easier to breath, didn't burn as much. He was too busy looking away from Francis and burning with shame instead. When he did notice, he gasped. "Y-you bastard! Y-you purified me!" Another deep chuckle, that godforsaken man with his fucking deep laugh that made his knees turn to jelly.

"I have that affect on plenty of people. Now come, petit lapin, you're going out!" Arthur barely had time to grab his book before he was carried out the window.

**Tip: an angel's worst day is Monday. Corrupt the angel on a Sunday.**

Arthur had long ago given up on the book. No wonder Lucifer had never slept with Michael, the man was mad and his logic was completely messed up. His wing still twinged slightly, missing its partner, but he ignored the discomfort in favor of following Francis beneath the arches of the Great Hall, out into the courtyards. Francis himself was unaware of his presence, singing softly to himself with his bucket and gardening tools in one hand and his gloves in the other.

"Yo, Artie, are you really so in love with Franny you've taken to stalking him!" Gilbert asked loudly, laughing. Arthur scowled darkly, making shushing noises as he ducked behind a wall. Francis didn't stop singing, and Arthur cursed Gilbert in his mind.

Just when he thought he'd escaped Alfred, another, more annoying one popped up. Who the hell would call Francis 'Franny' anyway? That was just weird.

"I'm not in love with him, you idiot, I'm trying to corrupt him. Now shut up and go bother Antonio and leave me to my work." Slipping back around the wall to follow Francis into a small circular garden, Arthur prepared himself to jump out at him and drag him to hell.

But the sight of Francis working in his garden, humming softly, entranced him. When he thought about it, Francis only ever seemed perfectly at ease when he was gardening, away from everyone else. "Gilbert was right, you know. You have stalking tendencies. Come out." Arthur growled, emerging from behind the wall to glare at Francis.

"I wasn't stalking you." But he didn't have an explanation better than that, and chose instead to sit next to the pure white wall in silence. Corrupting could wait for another day.

**Step 5: if the courteous approach fails, the physical approach will work.**

"Need I remind you..." Ivan asked sweetly in his mind, "that your time is going to be up in a month, and you won't be able to return to hell." Arthur's wing fluttered in irritation.

"I know I know! I've tried everything! Do you have any idea how hard it is to corrupt an angel who is able to molest Gabriel on a daily basis and not even get a slap on the wrist for it? Trust me, I've tried everything short of bending him over a table." Mainly because that method wouldn't work at all, and even if it did, Francis would be all too eager.

"Everything?" Ivan asked. He hummed thoughtfully. "Did you try the cookies, comrade?"

Try the cookies, try the cookies. "Yes I tried the freaking cookies! All I got was, 'petit lapin, if I ever see you in a kitchen again, I'm going to exorcize you'! The cookies don't work!" Arthur growled deep in his throat, and Ivan didn't answer, seeming to have ended the conversation. Blasted cookies. One more thing about cookies. Just one more thing.

"Arthur, you seem much more energetic this morning." Matthew greeted softly, sitting before him in the shade of a large tree, holding his book in his lap. Arthur peeked open one eye to get a good look at him. His blonde hair curled around his face much the way Francis's did, and his violet eyes glowed warmly, not a shred of malice in them.

But his mourning dove grey wings had a worrying amount of black in them.

"Your wings..." he started lamely. A look of irritation flashed across Matthew's features, not aimed at Arthur at all.

"I know. Apparently if you rip one out, five more grow in its place. And besides, with Alfred around it's been a lot harder for me to remain pure." The last part clearly wasn't meant for him to hear, but Arthur did anyway, observing the flush of his cheeks as he stared off at the white spires in the distance.

"How about you ask Francis to purify you, the bastard seems damn good at it." It was supposed to be a scathing remark, but Arthur was surprised to see Matthew smile sweetly at him.

"I noticed. Your wing is already sprouting its down feathers."

Arthur realized just then that perhaps his brain needed an upgrade, or at least a faster processor, because those words took him a life time to figure out what the hell Matthew meant by that. He stretched his wing, felt wiggling underneath the bandage, much smaller than his other wing, which had lost its leather and was covered instead by smoky grey down feathers. How had he not noticed before? How had he not even noticed that his other wing was growing back?

He'd spent too long getting comfortable here and now he was turning into a fucking angel and falling in love with an angel that should seriously be a demon for all his sinning and his beautiful black wings were gone and –

This was all Francis's fault.

**Step 6: and if nothing else works. Try just asking nicely.**

"Asking nicely my ass." Arthur grumbled, wandering through the mesh of gardens, following the sound of Francis's deep singing voice. "Asking nicely. Hey, Francis. Wanna come to hell with me? It's not as bad as you think, just smells kinda bad. By the way, if you do you'll keep me from being murdered by an absolutely insane Russian. Kay, thanks." As though asking nicely was actually going to work.

His time was running out. Arthur felt his brows curl into a greater frown, staring at the sky as it turned from dusk to evening. After tonight, it would be nearly impossible for him to return to hell without waiting another hundred years for a weakness in the barrier. And by then, he would be a full angel and not just a fledgling.

"What's wrong, petit lapin?" Francis asked with soft concern without turning to look at who had entered his garden. Arthur sat on the low wall, staring at the sky, the stars glowing in his green eyes.

"I wanted you to come to hell with me. Now it looks like it won't happen." Arthur whispered as Francis joined him on the wall. He leaned against his shoulder, granting himself at least that much warmth. Dear god Francis was warm. Not even Matthew's kuma-something could hold a candle against how warm Francis made him feel.

"Why go to hell when I can be evil in heaven?" Francis asked with a soft laugh, kissing the top of his head, slightly surprised that Arthur was allowing him that. "They keep me around because I can purify things. And because I'm damn sexy."

Even though it had been totally obvious since day one that he wanted Francis to jump his bones.

"And why be evil in hell when I can just be...me in heaven?" Arthur small smirk was devious, and Francis gave it right back. They leaned forward then, pressing their lips together as tenderly as though they had never done it before, despite the numerous other stolen kisses previously.

"Arthur I want my angel!" Ivan called in his mind.

"Fuck you, Ivan." Arthur answered, delving deeper into the kiss and losing himself to the perfect seduction that was Francis Bonnefoy.

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Later, Arthur would admit to absolutely nothing, not even going 3 rounds right on top of the stone wall. He wouldn't even admit to where the bruises around his neck came from. Instead, he flipped to the last bit of the book, ignoring the little hints and pointers, before he came to a bit written in sparkly red ink.

**Did I forget to mention? The cookies should be infused with ambrosia in order to completely seduce a normal angel.**

**And, if all else fails, you could try offering them cupcakes.**

"Fuck you too, Lucifer!" Arthur shouted, and abused the book one final time.

Owari


End file.
